We write because we must. I believe that. And today, I had to write, grab a few minutes to get a freewrite poem on the page. Here it is unedited.

What comes from this year
of mourning, relentless, the losses
concealing our spirits, the fights, the
politics of ego. These fights, yes, we grab
the ones worth fighting, but what forms
will your soul choose while standing against
injustice. And don’t for one minute leave
your soul out of it. What faces will you be then?
Think. Think hard. This is harder
than you think. We mourn beneath these
veils—outrage, ego, insults hurled on each
other. I can feel the internet spit. We want
to fight. So think about that. What can love
do now. (A lot.) Where do we practice tolerance
instead of the flip quip irony. Where do we
stand up. And where do we sit safely to mourn.